


Snippets of Hyuga

by holdinglines



Category: Samurai of Hyuga (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Friendship, Multi, Platonic Relationships, oblivious to love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdinglines/pseuds/holdinglines





	1. Ronin/Momo - Women are Strange Creatures

The strangest thing to happen was when Momoko cried over soap.

 

They managed to get to Tonogasha unscathed.  But just because they hadn't run into demons or bandits didn't mean they were safe.  They had been far more likely to starve than to get shanked, since the only person with any experience hunting was bedridden.  It took even longer to reach the town, because Toshie insisted on avoiding all the main roads.

And the rain made it all so much worse.

Their cart was so mall, and Minato was a tall man.  Their little makeshift roof could barely cover two of them at once, let alone all five of them.  From his perch in the wagon, Minato would instruct them on how to build a fire; what plants were good to eat; and when all of that failed, how to carve a walking stick for himself.  He couldn't hunt game, but he refused to be a burden.  Momoko spent most of the ride by his side, at first guilty of staying dry, but after the first cold and hard night decided not to complain about her small fortune.  Every night she'd undress him to make sure the stitches hadn't come undone, and would hold his hand while he tried to swallow down the poor excuse for medicine they had.

Momoko had never been hungry before, not like that.  She'd never had to eat weeds just to feel full or had to collect rainwater to drink.  After a while her mind felt muddled and hazy.  Minato squeezed her hand and brought her back to reality.  Hachirobei talked and talked and talked, and forced her to talk back.  Whenever she felt her eyes drooping, Toshie would pull her close and they'd huddle under a blanket together.  It was horrid.  But the solidarity among them eased the ache.

At the sign of Tonogasha's gates they cheered.  The clouds parted and the birds sang, and if she didn't know any better a rainbow might've appeared.

 

But they still had work ahead of them.  Minato and Masami went to find an inn, while Momoko, Toshie, and Hatch pretended they had any money to spare for food.

Thoughts swirled and jumbled together.  Where would the demon be? Where could they sleep? Would they be able to eat? As a doctor, Masami and Minato _had_ to eat, they were a child and a recovering patient.  But her belly was hollow and her mouth was dry, and she was  _so hungry_ …

But once again Minato saved the day.

 

* * *

 

They hadn't talked much their first day in Tonogasha.  When Minato and Masami brought them to the home they'd rented, it took every ounce of dignity Momoko had not to dash to the first bedroom she saw.  Everyone was asleep almost before their heads hit the pillow.  When they all awoke, the hunger they'd ignored came at full force.

Basho was a gracious host and had made a feast for them that morning.  Momoko reached for bowl after bowl until Minato put his giant hand over one of hers and shook his head.

"Pace yourself." It turned out to be solid advice which she was grateful for, especially later in the day when Hatch made himself sick from too much food and vomited most of it back up.  Momoko was not pleased that her work continued, but she didn't complain.

She did, however, feel a dull ache when she didn't see Minato's face until that night.

It's not that he actually  _said_ anything to her, but when he took her hand and led her into her bedroom she felt a thrill inside of her.

His hands were huge compared to hers, and idly she remembered the strength and ferocity that was contained in them.  When he leaned against her she remembered that this man was a killer, when he put those hands on her shoulders she was struck how easily he could crush her.

She remembered a dog once, in her childhood home.  One spring morning a baby bird fell from its nest, and she cried and cried. A dog came over and picked it up the gentlest way, and carried it ever so slowly to its home.  She was touched until the dog swallowed it whole. She cried even harder.

She waited with a mix of fear and excitement when her savior would kill her next.

But the moment never came.  Instead he motioned for her to sit and dropped a bag into her hands.  As she opened it, he sat behind her.

A bar of soap.  A comb missing some teeth.  A sewing needle and a spool of thread.

Her eyes began to tear up.  She rubbed her eyes and wept at the touch of his fingers slowly going through her hair.  He took the comb and began to tease the knots out.  Occasionally he stopped to massage her temples, and she leaned in against his touch.  He was so warm, even with his callused hands, even with his past, he made her feel so safe in that moment.

When he got up to leave a small noise escaped her lips.  He made no comment, but a part of her wished he would address it.  Anything to cut the tension.  But the moment passed and he left her alone, but his touch still lingered on her skin.  

She thumbed the combs teeth.  The memory kept her up late at night and she wept again.  He gave her a small bliss, a comfort she didn't feel she deserved, and she loved him so much for it.


	2. Ronin/Toshio - We're Not in Love

Toshio felt like he had every right to hate Kana at first.  One part because she's Shiroyama's daughter: The first and last demon he and his troupe attempted to defeat, only to be thwarted before their holy quest could even begin.  Now, over two centuries later, here he was.  Across the street from the daughter of his old foe and trying to play nice.

That in itself wouldn't be so bad.  But she just had to be so _e_ _xtra_  about _everything_.

She put on a fake smile and charmed demons and humans alike; she flitted among social circles and put on different personas. She revelled in the attention thrown at her and made it a business.

She aggressively pushed his buttons and she figured out how he ticked; she casually brings up things he thought he kept so well under wraps; she called him out on his hypocrisy.  She made him admit that he was just as manipulative as her, and kept everyone at arms length.

He hated that she was honest with herself and had no illusions.  A strange quirk for a demon.

" _You have such a mouth on you, Shiroyama-kun. I guess I kept thinking about it running so much I just had to have it."_  

 

 

A tension drew him to her.  Why could she see through him so easily? Why did she continue to surprise him?  Why couldn't he impress her ~~like she impressed him.~~   Then it happened: just a late night, and words and feelings that couldn't be taken back.  And a lot of embarrassment the next morning when they both went to work.

But Kana is a wonderment and a professional.  She spoke with an understanding and kindness he didn't deserve.  An ache started to grow after that.  He remembered heartache and loss, he wanted to bury it and now it was burning behind his eyes.  She made his world a little less grey, so he sought her out.  He spent his breaks at her work, and jumped between hating her practices and admiring her methods.  He found himself helping her after hours, cleaning dishes and helping with bills.  There were circles under her eyes and she rubbed the sleep out of them too much, but she always gave him a smile and worried more for his own comfort than her own.  She lived keeping a delicate balance: she was Shiroyama's daughter, but the way she soothed tempers and stood by her employees made her as noble as a bygone empress.

He is disturbed that his mind wanders to her and that he instinctively smiled when talking about her. He resolves to be more diligent and to not slip up in the future.

 

They met outside of work one night at a charity event.  He shook her hand and brought her fingertips to his lips, and he knew it was all over.

And the damn witch batted her eyes with false innocence and he knew that she knew it too.

They kept it under the table, both their relationship and their flirtations.  Kana took a twisted pleasure of playing footsie whenever he was trying to concentrate on work or whenever she wanted something (which was often).  Soon though they just...gravitated towards each other.  Toshio let himself smile more.  When they were next to one another, the back of his hand would brush against hers.  When she spoke, he turned and gave her his full attention.  Sometimes they'd sit in a dark corner of her cafe and his restaurant, unable to talk but just enjoying each other's presence.  He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, and she loved how her face seemed to fit the cup of his hands just right.  His finger loved exploring her face, from her too wide smile to the laugh lines around her eyes.  It was a dangerous indulgence, but just being near her lulled him to sleep so they found most of their 'dates' being naps followed by mac 'n cheese sandwiches and movies.

He loved listening to her talk, of her flaring temper and her frustrations. He could only listen, because she hated it when people thought she was a child, and that reminded him of a shugenja from so long ago. She reminded him of Hatch too, of someone with more skills than he gave credit to, who wound up being a closer friend than he deserved.

When he finally started to open up it was like a dam broke. Everything at once and all jumbled together and it *hurts*, it hurts to remember and he's crying and she's holding him and he forgot how _warm_  another person can be ~~or maybe it's just her~~

 

They're both broken in different ways, and they can't fix one another, but they're not lonely and that means more than either of them know. They keep saying it's nothing serious, even if they need to hold each other to go to sleep, even if Kana can't imagine a prettier green than the kind she sees in his eyes (they go a little bit blue around the pupil and she swears there's streaks of yellow like the sun), but it's nothing serious.


	3. Miri/Take; OC/OC; Blossoming

 

Takeko loved Mirika.

It wasn't a romantic love, but the feeling of a best friend, if even that.

Mirika was a genuine woman who loved helping others.  Takeko remembered seeing how the school children's faces lit up at her magic tricks and stories.  That was a Magic all its own.

Takeko first thought their friendship was a student/mentor, or a parent/child.  Takeko had a habit of being drawn towards "fixers". But that was a disservice to Miri. She was **not** naive in anyway, but instead as stubborn as a bull.

She knew exactly how unkind the world was, but that made her all the more determined to do good.  "I know it won't matter in the big scheme of things, I know it won't change anyone's lives. But don't people deserve to feel good, even for a moment?"

"Aren't you doing it just to make yourself feel better?"

"I deserve to feel good and be happy too"

 

Mirika wasn't delusional, she was well aware of her own shortcomings and limits. She was open with others and herself, and felt her feelings freely. This worked out well, it let others know exactly how she felt, and it let Miri move past whatever had hurt her.  Takeko remembered an emotionally manipulative villain try to break her. Instead she hugged the bastard then grand slammed him into the floor.

Takeko thought they had a strictly professional relationship. That obviously wasn't the case when she came to Takeko's apartment in tears over something trivial in retrospect, but was the end of the world for the teenager.

They talked all evening, hands warmed by mugs of hot chocolate, murmuring stories under a fort of blankets on the floor. For a while there was nothing but them and the lights and colors of magical realms they made up to distract each other. Miri fell asleep holding Takeko's hand and with a chocolate mustache, and the warm ache told Takeko that this girl didn't need another grown up telling her how wrong she was to feel or believe,

What she needed was a friend. Maybe that's why they both needed


	4. Ronin/Toshio; Trust

  It occurred to Toshio that sneaking into a women’s tent at night and offer vague services might not have been his smartest plan.  It was purely for platonic reasons, with no ulterior motives whatsoever. 

  _Toshio you fool, you're a ninja.  You both know there's a hidden agenda._

  Takeko was either too polite or too tired to call him out on it though, and let him fumbled through his explanation about the benefits of a massage.  She stretched herself out on her bedroll, her head held up by one hand, the other up to her face as she yawned.

 

  “Do I bore you?”

  "Yes."

  He bit his tongue.  Her posture seemed so relaxed, so apathetic, so  _regal_.

   _We're the same you and I, Takeko.  Don't try to pretend you're more than you are.  You'll only get hurt._

She reached up and grabbed his arm, and between the two of them slowly pulled her up to sit, careful of her stomach wounds.

  "What about you?"

  "Me?"

  "Nn," she nodded and put a hand on his shoulder.  "That island was awful for you."

  He gave her a smile he knew she couldn't see in this dark tent.  "I'm fine as always,  _Sword that Cuts the Heavens_.  It's my job to take care of you."

  "You're not safe."

  His mind reeled at her words.  Takeko, he's learned, thought very quickly and sometimes couldn't voice everything at once.  It was his job to either figure it out or play yes-or-no until he could narrow it down.

  And he had no time for either.

  He shuffled slightly away from her and then bowed his head to the ground.  "Please, Takeko, please let me do this for you.  We have no doctor and barely any food, and I cannot let you waste away.  This is the only way I can help.  Let me heal you the only way I know how."  

  There was a pregnant pause while she considered his words.

_If this makes you uncomfortable, say so and tell me to leave._  He felt sick to his stomach.  A part of him hoped she'd tell him to leave, then they could act like this never happened, like he didn't intrude and beg like a dog at her feet.  _My dignity means nothing_ _— this is the best way to go about.  If she's flustered she won't say no._  Dammit  _Toshio, what is wrong with you?_

  He remembered when he found her in the manor.  Her sword in her hands and the vague look of confusion.  When he pulled her up and dragged her to the raft, she'd followed without a fuss.

_I need to know how much she remembers.  The more I know more useful I am._

Strange how Hachirobei's words made sense to him now.

  Takeko was their only hope.  _Satsuma_ 's only hope.  He was given to her to guarantee her success. 

   _That demon did something to you.  Your memories shouldn't be malleable to manipulation._

A rough hand touched his cheek but he still refused to look up.

  "Don't," she whispered.

  "You're the  _Sword that Cuts the Heavens_."

  "Fuck that."

  Toshio's head jerked up in surprise.  He'd never heard her swear before.   _Is it anger? Annoyance? Sleep deprivation? A hunger hallucination on_ my  _part?_

Takeko let out a long sigh.  "Fine.  But only if I return the favor."

  "You don't look like a masseuse," he tried and failed to keep himself from grinning like a fool and was forever grateful for the darkness around them.

  “Show me.” 

  “We need to make a proper bedroll for you first, though.”

  He felt her hand leave him and fought the urge to move closer.  The air felt much colder without it there, all of a sudden.    She pulled off a stray bit of grass stuck onto her and tickled his nose with it.  He sputtered and reeled back, and she giggled.

  Huh.  Well.

  “Per-perhaps not directly on it then.” he said and began to remove his kimono when the hand returned on his forearm.  He shuddered at her touch.

  “Why?”

  “The grass and friction could cause irritation, and I won’t—“

  “No,” she sighed again and he saw her shake her head.  “Nevermind.”

  She shifted and began to take off her own kimono and Toshio never felt his common sense leave faster.

  “No!” Her hand whipped to his mouth faster than lightening; they both froze and listened for any noise from their companions outside the tent.

  “No,” he said, quieter this time.  “You needn’t degrade yourself.”

  Takeko paused, one arm half out.  He saw the outline of her head shake again.  She slipped all the way out and Toshio turned his head away.  _For modesty's sake_ please...

  “Toshio,” she whispered.  She took one of his hands and placed it just below her collarbone.

_Oh…_

  To be honest, he’d suspected for a while now.  However they'd had far more pressing concerns than their hero's gender and Toshio was more than content to try to puzzle it out himself.  At first he assumed she was incognito; an assassin would've made many prolific enemies, he'd assumed.   Then they reached Jijinto, and the bartender recognized her.  Toshio had spoken to him later, and he'd known her for almost half a decade.  A fake identity should be a temporary thing to be discarded and replaced as often as possible.

  And then there was that  _thing_ that attacked her and Hashimoto at the dojo.  Hachirobei said it called for her.  

  “ _Samurai first, woman second_.”

  Underneath his hand, he felt her erratic heartbeat and breath.  He’d only seen her have a panic attack once, on the road to Tonogasha, and now tonight.

  “Takeko,” he said slowly.  “Is a beautiful name.  Did you choose it?”

  She gulped and nodded.

  “I can’t imagine the pride you must feel to hear it on another’s lips.”

  She turned her head away from him, but didn’t move away.  They sat there in silence for what felt like hours before she turned her back and laid down on the mat.

  “Like this you said?”

  He felt his stomach flutter. “You listened.”

  She grunted.

   _I’ll take that as a yes._

  While he moved her long hair out of the way and began to gently instruct her how to properly lay down, Toshio’s mind spun.

   _She **listened**  to me she  **trusts**  me she didn’t have to tell me or let me stay but she  **did**! This isn’t a necessary alliance or being forced to rely on me she trusted me and told me.  She trusts me, she trusts  **me** , she has no reason to and she shouldn’t but she does and I’m HAPPY.  I could cry she trusts me I could kiss her…_

_She trusts me._


	5. Hina/Take; OC/OC; the Gardener

 

  Takeko itched and chaffed in her own skin.  The sun was high in the sky and was slowly baking the committee inside the glass theatre where they heard proposals from the people and dignitaries.  But the adviser couldn't care less.

  A new gardener started work today, and Takeko cared far more for her garden than she ever would for fat men who begged for more money.

  She shifted to get the blood flowing in her legs.  The seiza position became a slow acting torture after the third hour.  The committee members around her fanned themselves and tried to look as apathetic as they could manage; they licked their lips and huffed and creaked and groaned while their jewelry clinked and clattered.  Outside a bird tapped and scrapped at the windows.  Takeko's breath was caught in her throat. 

_It's too loud._

  She glanced about and caught Kenta’s eye just as he arranged the coins in front of him to spell his name.

  Dragons can’t read minds. But sometimes friends know what u need.  Kenta gave her a wink, then yawned and knocked over his scales, scattering coins all over the floor.  When people began to yell at him, she declared time for a brief recess.  As they left the chamber she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “While you’re out, can you wind up some of the hall clocks?”

  “What, and make more noise?”

 

* * *

 

  ‘Dragon’ is an inaccurate term for what Takeko and Kenta were. ‘Chimera’ was more fitting. When ships came with the first settlers, they brought tales of spirit guides, great and terrible beasts.  They told stories of great and terrible beasts from another world, creatures that could sink nations, but could also guide a person towards enlightenment.  When they'd made their pilgrimage to the mainland, the resident shapeshifters tried to bank on these beliefs and molded themselves to better fit that mystical image.

  It had worked too well.

  Takeko slipped away from the crowd, first as a fly then as a stray cat.  After being shoo-ed outside by a cook she took her sweet time strolling around and admiring the people's work they'd put into her hoard.  The farther she got from the palace, the fewer people there were.  One part twinged at that, for what kind of dragon would she be if she didn't have people to look in awe and wonder at her collection?  It took a literal country to maintain it.

  _Perhaps some of Kana has rubbed off on me.  Or maybe the opposite ?_

  When she was certain she was alone, she stood up and jumped into the air, now in the form of a nightingale.

 _In ten minutes  they’ll need tea and dango, I hope someone sent for a servant otherwise they’ll be testy and negotiations_— she landed on a branch and ruffled her feathers.   _No. No more thought of work. I’m a simple bird in a beautiful garden and I. Will. Enjoy. It._

  Then she saw him.  The new gardener.

  He actually wasn’t as old as she expected, but he was definitely in his prime.  He had a farmers tan and scars that implied hard and brutal work _\--from the coasts perhaps?--_ but he was diligent.  He didn’t wear gloves and dug deep into the soft ground to grab the weeds from the roots.

  _Good._

  He patted the dirt back into place and smiled.  From her perch she could see him talk to the plants, but now what he said.  She flew down closer.  _This man knows songs and stories.  A shame no one to hear them._

  He told a story of a young college boy, sick with love and who only wished for a rose to give his paramour.  Of a garden still hard from winter, but a song bird who heard his plea and who made the ultimate sacrifice out of love.

  “‘Surely Love is a wonderful thing,'" he said.  "'It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. it may not be purchased of the merchants, 'or can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.'”

  _I wonder where he heard those words._ She hopped closer.

   He continued the story, he detailed the songbird's plight: how the garden was small, but a great distance for such a small thing, how it begged and pleaded with the trees to find one willing to help her find a rose.sing a song and bleed and die for a poor poet to make the most beautiful Rose.  He began to pull weeds in time to his story, he pulled excess fruit from trees and ripped the rotten apart and buried it back in the ground. He counted seeds and and trimmed branches and moved potted plants into the sunlight.

>   'Be happy,' cried the Nightingale, 'be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.'

  His deep voice could soothe any nerves.  Soon Takeko found herself on the ground, hopping closer and closer to the gardener as if in a trance.  She wanted to hear how the story ended.

  _These things never have a happy ending._

>   The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.
> 
>   But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
> 
>   'Sing me one last song,' he whispered; 'I shall feel very lonely when you are gone.'

 

  The gardener paused.  Unlike before, it wasn't because of some duty but out of contemplation.  Takeko hopped closer and chirped.  The gardener glanced at her and smiled.  With slow movements, he reached into his pockets and spilled some seeds in front of her.  She eyed them critically before she gave him a chirp of approval.

  "So glad you approve, my little friend," he laughed.

  As she ate some of the seeds she glanced at his other pocket.  Before she could try to sneak a peek though, he covered it with his hand and wagged his finger at her.

  "Sorry songbird," he said.  "These seeds aren't meant for you.  You could get sick of you eat these."

   _He was already sorting them!_

  The gardener reached for her and flew into the nearest tree.  He let out another laugh.  “Here I thought we were getting along,” he said.  She tweeted in response.  “Well little bird, here’s a warning for you: don't fall for young youths who don't know what love is.  'Specially the sacrificed to get that love.”

_How lonely._

  A flash of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.  She swiveled her head and saw a yellow-eyed cat with a crooked tail vanish into a hydrangea bush.  _Dammit Kenta._   She tweeted a quick goodbye to the gardener and flew off towards the cat.  She couldn't help but turn to look at the gardener, and felt a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach to see him waving goodbye to a plain bird like herself.

   _Strange old man._

 

* * *

 

  Just as had happened a dozen times before she landed in an empty bird bath and began to preen her wings. A twig snapped.  Claws scrapped against bark.

_Really, birds have much better hearing than people give them credit for._

  A furry of fur and fangs fell from the sky and into her dry bath, but the wretched thing was old and badly maintained, and quickly tipped over with them in it.

  Kenta yowled while Takeko flapped and shrieked as she tried to keep him from crushing her.

  The next moment the stone basin was lifted off of them and Kenta zipped off.  

  “Serves that beast right,” a gruff voice said.

  Takeko was still dizzy, dizzier still when some large hands scooped her up.  Another equally giant giant hand smoothed down her feathers and placed her gently in the grove of a tree.

  ”Poor thing,” the gardener said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this snippet contains references and excerpts from Oscar Wilde's "The Nightingale and the Rose" which is public domain and free to read online to anyone that's interested.


End file.
